The Co-op

by Tarah DeWitt

Because I’m also enjoying the side-eyeing and odd flinch here and there. The little tilt of his head like some silly, confused pup when I respond to his flirting in an unexpected way. I’ve been leaving bobby pins in unusual places, tossing them on his bed, or leaving some in the coffee mug he refuses to put in the cupboard. Hair ties in his car or in the tool belt he leaves lying around every day. After he left his beard trimmings in the sink again, I put the toilet paper roll on backward—three times in a row. He came stomping out of the bathroom the last time and I’m certain he was about to break, but I was splayed out on the chaise in my favorite silk robe and, before he could speak, I told him, “Oh, by the way, I grabbed you your favorite sub from the cold case at the end of my shift. It’s in the fridge next to some pie.” I find myself stocking up on all his favorite snacks, really. Maybe I’ll start putting hair ties in his favorite cinnamon sugar pretzels.